


Fighting Oneself

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan (Non-Canon AUs) [15]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Didn't See That Coming, F/M, Sexual Themes, Tension, an AU has been birthed by a smutty one-shot, fen'harel is a cocky asshat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:57:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after A Casual Dalliance. When a young Fen’Harel appears at Skyhold, a confrontation with his older self is inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Oneself

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Casual Dalliance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276929) by [geekyjez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez). 



> Highly recommended that you read A Casual Dalliance for context. I was asked to write how my version of young Fen'Harel would interact with Solas. It doesn't go particularly well. Let's not focus on how/why Fen'Harel found himself in modern times. Let's just accept it as part of the thought experiment, shall we?

“This isn’t a good time.”

Isii kept her voice low as if afraid someone would hear. Her reluctance amused him. Was she concerned about being discovered with him? They were doing little more than standing in a hallway. He could have her in a far more compromising position than the one she was in now, her back pressed to the wall as he kissed her neck. “Is that so?” Fen’Harel cooed and he felt her shudder. 

“I have a meeting,” she explained. “My advisers are waiting for me-”

“Then let them wait,” he said, cradling her chin with his fingers. “You are the one in command, are you not?” He angled her head, drawing her lips to his own. She tasted so sweet that morning, like unfamiliar fruits that he wanted to explore with his tongue. She moaned softly but then stiffened, flattening her palms against his chest and pushing him back.

“It doesn’t work like that,” she said. There was a hint of breathlessness to her voice that he took as encouragement. 

“You have all the authority in the world. Not only their leader but worshiped as holy…”

“I’m not,” she defended quickly.

“Ah, but I have heard your name raised in prayer,” he purred. “The Herald of… what was the name?”

“Andraste.”

“Hmmm, yes,” he hummed, his fingers toying with the buttons along her bust. “That’s the one. They believe you are an avatar, their creator’s will embodied, the blessed one who will lead the wretched into the light.” He dipped his head, his fingers peeling back her jacket far enough to place a kiss along her collarbone. “A fine tale. One you have allowed to work in your favor, it seems.” 

“I let them believe what they wish,” she said, obviously trying to hide a quiver in her voice. “It’s proven useful, from time to time.”

“Circumstances that I know all-too-well, pet. Though in your case, it is not entirely a lie, is it?” he added with a smirk. “They are not wrong in saying you’re divinely touched.” He let his hand slide against the front of her breeches, curling between her legs as she writhed, gasping. “Just not in the way they presume,” he murmured, licking her ear.  

The sound of a throat being loudly cleared interrupted them.

Fen’Harel glanced up to see his older self staring back at him, his eyes narrowed in a tight glare. He felt Isii stiffen awkwardly, her hands pressing harder against his chest until she could pull away from the wall. Her look was strained, apologetic as she eyed the older man. Solas’s face softened slightly as he looked at her, some unspoken moment passing between them as she lowered her gaze, walking briskly past him and further down the hall. Fen’Harel began to follow but Solas stepped forward, blocking his path.

“She has more important things to attend to than your inability to keep your hands to yourself,” he said firmly.

Fen’Harel laughed. “Believe me, she has no complaints about where my hands go.”

Solas’s jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. “You should not be here.”

The younger man smirked. “What is it? Still sore that I ruined your little game? I wasn’t about to wander around Tarasyl’an Te’las with everyone calling me  _Solas_.” The name rolled off his tongue like a hiss. “Chose the moniker yourself, I take it?”

The older man was silent. That seemed to be his preference. The two of them had yet to speak in private, yet his repeated glares and disapproving looks had not gone unnoticed. Then again, he was also coping with having his identity revealed very publicly to all of his associates, so perhaps his frustration was understandable. It was a rather bizarre experience, standing this close to him. At their basest features, they looked the same. A few more creases around his mouth and eyes, perhaps, but altogether mostly unchanged. But the clothing… the bald head…

“My compliments on a convincing costume, old man,” he said smoothly. “I can’t imagine anyone would find you even remotely impressive as you are now.” Fen’Harel propped himself against the wall, his arms folded. “Perhaps you care to explain to me precisely how the world came to be this way, hmmm? It seems someone made quite a mess of the place.” Again, silence. “A consequence of Geldauran and Elgar’nan’s wars, perhaps? I assume you still maintain contact with our kin, in some capacity. Are they all as you are? You’re not even a fraction of what you once were… Why is that, exactly?”

“That’s not for you to know.”

Fen’Harel rolled his eyes. “No, of course you wouldn’t say. Did one of our own get the better of us? Was this the result of some trick we didn’t see coming?” Solas said nothing, rigid in his posture, staring him down. The younger man grinned. “What? Too _proud_  to admit when you’ve been beaten?”

“You already know too much about your own future.”

Fen’Harel pouted teasingly. “Oh so stern,  _Solas_. It’s a simple enough question. I merely wish to know why you have so little power and yet somehow still managed to get a sliver of it trapped inside that little girl.” He saw a subtle flinch in the corner of his eye, his fingers shifting at his side.  _Bad form, Dread Wolf,_  the younger man thought. _I know your tells._  He couldn’t resist pushing. “Though from what I hear, that’s about all you managed to get in her. You should be thanking me in that regard, I think.”

“Shut up.”

“Oooh, struck a nerve, have I?” he asked with a laugh. “I can’t imagine why you would be angry. You  _do_ remember those nights she shared my bed, do you not? And those afternoons. A few mornings as well. It’s not like you can’t enjoy them in the aftermath. Perhaps recreate them in your dreams? Relive your glory days, as it were?” The man’s face became icy. “Silent treatment again?” he asked, disappointed. “You used to be much better at coming up with retorts.” 

“I have very little patience for your taunting.”

“Come to think of it, does your mind shape memories of the things I do now as they happen? If I took her to bed, would you see it in your mind’s eye as I push into her?”

“No,” the man growled, a sharp crease forming across the bridge of his nose.

“Hmmm. Pity,” he said with a shrug. “Perhaps you would get some enjoyment out of that.” He pushed away from the wall, arms still crossed as he closed the distance between them. “It truly puzzles me why you’d have such an eager little thing at your beck and call and not take advantage. You had her so tightly wrapped around your finger that it was child’s play getting her to part her legs for me…so I have to wonder why you never did. Is that a skill you have forgotten, old man?” He smiled wickedly. “Do you need a reminder on how it’s done? I’m certain I could coax her into letting you watch.”

“Not another word,” he hissed, his hands balled tightly into fists at his sides.

“Unless, of course, you’d rather join us? Make it more of an interactive demonstration?” He could see the tension in Solas’s neck as he glowered. “There are a number of ways we could share her,” he pressed. “Do you have a preference on which end you’d take? She’s quite skilled with her tongue-”

His words stopped short, his head snapping back as the fist suddenly cracked against his jaw. Fen’Harel staggered, startled. The old man was much faster than he would have predicted. The corner of his mouth burned from the impact, his lip cut from where it dug into his teeth. “She is not your plaything,” Solas snapped. “She deserves far better than that.”

Fen’Harel’s eyes narrowed, wiping away the slow-forming trickle of blood from his chin. “That was a very risky thing for you to try,  _Solas_ ,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You are not nearly as powerful as you used to be.” He could tell the man had already considered this, preparing himself for the confrontation to escalate further. Fen’Harel had not been serious in his taunts, of course. They were meant only to provoke him, yet his reaction was more than he had anticipated. He was willing to fight himself, as weak and diminished as he was - all over some little dalliance with a mortal? Someone whose life would be over in the blink of an eye, relatively speaking? 

_How absolutely absurd._

Fen’Harel straightened his posture, stretching his neck. “So this Herald means that much to you, does she?”

“She does,” he said firmly. “And I would not see you tarnish that with your antics.”

Fen’Harel peered at him, his brow arching as he took a moment to consider. “Well, if it means that much, then I suppose I will keep my distance.” He saw a brief look of wary confusion cross the older man’s features. “Do you truly find that so startling? I am not entirely unreasonable.” He crossed his arms once more, his head tilting. “Do not mistake me; if she comes to me I have no intention of turning her away.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to have that much self control.”

Fen’Harel laughed, shaking his head. “I would not take anything she does not give freely. Surely it is not so difficult for you to remember that I would find no pleasure in that.” His smirk returned. “Or are you afraid she’d prefer me over you?”

“Hardly.” 

Fen’Harel scoffed, unconvinced. He moved forward and Solas allowed him to pass as he walked further down the hall. 

**Author's Note:**

> ... and this one promptly started a wave of requests for me to write a threesome with them.  >_>


End file.
